


The Legend of the Shadow

by willwriteforruns



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willwriteforruns/pseuds/willwriteforruns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate history to the end of the War of the Roses: After grieving the loss of her only son, and soon after, her husband, Anne Neville must protect herself, as well as her nephew and niece from Lancastrian forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought Anne Neville was one of the most mysterious queens in English history. Her life and death were lost to shadow. I wanted to write something where she was a bit more in the light.

It had been three days since Anne Neville’s son, Edward, had died. The Queen had spent every hour since his funeral wrapped in sheets and furs, burying herself in a grave of warm misery. The sounds and movement around her bed were nothing more than blurs of color. Occasionally, she’d be tapped on the shoulder by one of her ladies, telling her she should eat something. Anne would only shake her head and turn over.

In the dark of the night, Anne would sometimes wake to a figure over her. She could hear Richard breathing as he stood over her side of the bed. His hand would touch her head or grace her back, whichever was closest, and then he’d leave the room.

The day broke through the confines of the curtains, and it became more difficult to ignore the fact that life was moving on for everyone but herself.

“Your Grace,” a voice called from across the room. One of Anne’s ladies-in-waiting held a clean nightgown in her arms. She took a chance and walked closer to the Queen’s bed, peering over the mounds of furs covering Anne’s body. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Anne lowered the sheet from her face; her light blue eyes outlined in red. A moan escaped her throat, the only response she could muster.

“The King as requested you join him for tea in his chambers.”

Anne simply shook her head before pulling the sheet over her face once more. “I don’t wish to be disturbed,” was muffled into her pillow.

“At least let me help you,” the lady said, holding up the fresh sleeping gown.

Anne turned and, nodding, allowed her lady to remove her white gown from her body.

 

With little choice, the chaos of the kingdom continued around Anne. Footsteps were heard constantly down the halls near her chambers. Some knocks, but few ever entered. Voices rattling business Anne didn’t care or concern herself with fluttered off the lips of her husband and his men.

Darkness hit her room once again. Chamber maids entered only to light the fireplace and candles surrounding Anne’s bed, and then left.

It amazed Anne how quickly she could make the days disappear; she’d close her eyes once more and fall into a sleep that would prayed she’d never wake up.

The morning greeted Anne with a new guest. She opened her eyes to see her niece Margaret kneeling beside Anne’s bed. Still in her night gown, the child’s face was stained with tears.

Anne turned on her left side to face the girl. “Margaret?”

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” Margaret began. Her words struggled to reach her lips as tears fell from her cheeks.

Anne face contorted in confusion. “What is wrong?”

“It’s my fault…” Margaret stuttered, “…I shouldn’t have bothered Prince Edward…he was sick, and I wanted to play. Please, forgive me.”

Anne watched in silence as her niece’s head sunk into the cushion of the bedding. Without saying a word, Anne opened her covers, allowing Margaret to climb in the bed. This was something she hadn’t allowed the children to do since she became Queen, but at that moment, Anne didn’t care what was proper. It was comforting to hold a child and weep, and before long, they both had fallen back to sleep.

An empty feeling caressed Anne’s skin; a breeze. The warmth that had surrounded her was suddenly gone. She opened her eyes to see one of her ladies carrying a sleeping Margaret out of the room, and Richard sitting on the end of her bed.

“Why did you remove her?”

“It’s not right she be here,” he said, his voice lowered to a whisper.

“She is a comfort to me.”

“Anne, I’ve been patient…”

Disgusted, Anne turned to her other side, pulling the covers over her shoulders.

“You have had the amenity to disappear—I couldn’t. You don’t think I wouldn’t enjoy staying in bed day after day? But I’m King. “

Anne remained silent; she didn’t sigh or move.

“You cannot do this any longer. You have to rise and go on.”

As Anne remained still, Richard rose to his feet. He flung the furs and sheets off of his wife, causing the first surge of life in her. He took hold of her by the hips and pulled her to the side of the bed.

“Richard! What do you think you are doing?” Anne struggled against his grip.

“No more of this! You have to get up! No more, do you hear me?”

“Let go of me! Let go!” Anne cried as she struggled in his arms.

Finally able to release one of her arms from his grip, she slapped him across the face. The act stunned Richard for a moment before stopping her hand from repeating the act. Their arms shook against each other’s forces.

“Stop this, Anne…” Richard uttered, more quietly than before.

Anne’s anger melted into tears as she allowed her body to sink into Richard’s. He wrapped his arms around her back, slow and deliberately, and held her as she cried uncontrollably.


	2. Chapter 2

The onset of hot water slapped Anne to life as her folded forward in the tub. Steam ascended into the air causing a fog around her. She couldn’t see the women surrounding her tub; she could only feel the mundane actions of her auburn hair being lifted and cloths scrubbing her arms and shoulders.

The fog continued around her as her hair was brushed and braided. A new dress made of blue silk adorned her tiny figure. As she walked down the hall, Lords and Ladies bowed at her; their faces read as though they were watching a ghost float past, and that’s what Anne felt like.

Her husband smiled as she took his arm and the two of them walked into the dining hall. Their names and ranks announced, and the hall went silent. It was a strange feeling, as though she was floating through a funeral procession instead of simply sitting for dinner.

Anne couldn’t remember the last time she ate. As soon as the food touched her tongue, she realized how hungry she actually was. It took all her concentration not to stuff her mouth in meats and cheeses or guzzle her wine. The chatter that traveled around her helped with this concentration, especially when Richard spoke; his low voice always put Anne at ease. It was when he yelled that sent her out of focused. It used to be rare, but in the last year, it seemed as though her very presence irritated him. But dinner was when Richard reflected his best qualities; talking—not of matters of state, but of pleasantries, perhaps a joke or two. He even laughed.

One erupted from him that took Anne’s mind out of the fog and into reality. She didn’t like it. How dare he laugh? she thought. Our son is dead.

Richard’s hand found its way to Anne’s. His finger interlaced with hers as he continued to speak with the Lords across from them.

Anne stared down at the action as if were a hallucination. It felt good to be held by her husband.

“It is so good to have you with us again, my dear,” Cecily Neville commented.

Anne hadn’t noticed her next to her. The Duchess had taken Anne’s other hand into hers, not saying anything else. Anne showed her appreciation by giving the first smile face managed in months.

The Duchess walked her daughter-in-law down the hall arm-in-arm. She had offered to walk Anne to bed since Richard had important matters in which to attend, and knew Anne didn’t care much for those conversations.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, my dear. I know what it’s like to lose a child...”

“I know you do. You probably think me weak.”

“No,” Cecily sharply replied. “I think you’re a mother who’s lost her young son; her hope.”

Anne’s eyes watered, but she fought the urge to tear. Edward was her hope; her and Richard’s hope for York. “I worry,” Anne confessed, “that I have failed Richard, and that he thinks so as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am unable to give him more children; I have tried, but they all result in miscarriages.”

The women stopped at the doorway outside the children’s chamber. Cecily touched Anne’s cheek and ushered her inside. There, in two beds, lay the sleeping bodies of 

Anne’s niece and nephew.

“I see a princess resting in the comfort of her aunt’s kingdom, and a prince, a future heir to the York throne,” Cecily commented. She leaned over and kissed Edward on his forehead, taking a moment to truly look over him. “He resembles George…” she whispers, her voice almost cracking.

Anne nods. “He does.” She moves over to Margaret and pulls the furs over her exposed shoulders. “You are right; I do have children, and I will do whatever I can to protect them.”

Anne rested in bed on her back, lost in thought. The sound of her chamber door opening caused her to twitch in fright. Richard moved through the room, sitting down by the fire to remove his boots and undress.

Anne watched him, confused by his actions as he moved towards her and into the bed. He didn’t speak, only rain his hand over her cheek and kissed her gently on her lips.

“It made me so happy to see you eat this evening,” he commented. “And to be next to you…” he moved his limbs closer to Anne’s body under the furs, “…is comforting.”

“I have missed you, as well. But since…”

“No, please. Let’s not.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to speak of Edward. I loved him. I miss him just as much as you…but we must move forward.”

“You want me to forget him?”

“No, Anne. I want us to move forward. England is in peril, ruin even. I can only control certain matters…”

“You want us to have another child?”

“I want to be with you. If a child results, all the better—for us and for England.”

“Yes…I understand.”

Anne sunk into the bed, allowing Richard to move on top of her. He kissed her lips and down her neck before gazing into her eyes.

“I want to be with you, most of all. Tell me you understand that,” he pleaded.

Anne nodded for him. But as he entered her, all she could imagine was their lovemaking, despite having a royal purpose, would result the same way it had for the past ten years.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a span of months where Richard insisted Anne join him in his constitution. His travels included visits to the North, taking names and making declarations for his plans in the threat of war against Henry Tudor.  


Richard’s campaign not only entailed taking tallies of men who would join his cause, but also bedding his wife every night they were away from court.  


Though always gentle, Anne had noticed an urgency about her husband when they made-love, as if he were willing a child into her womb. Their last night away from London, Richard remained on top of Anne after he’d finished. His breathing remained hastened, yet controlled. Anne held him in her arms, stroking his head in a comforting manner.  


Anne knew no matter how deeply they wished for another child, it would not happen. She didn’t understand why God had punished her in such a way, but it was a fact they both must accept.  


“Richard…” Anne breathed.  


Richard lifted his head enough to look into her eyes.  


Her hand caressed his cheek. “I think we should declare Teddy as your heir.” There was silence between them for a moment. “He’s practically our son; he is a son of York. It would still ensure our family’s reign.”  


Richard rolled off of her and onto his back. He stared up, deep in thought for several minutes before answering her. “You would have me put George’s son directly in line for the throne?”  


“George hasn’t raised him; Teddy is nothing like George except in looks.”  


“You doubt me, then?”  


“I doubt no one. Richard, we’ve tried and tried, and it has become more tedious than enjoyable.”  


Richard took a moment. “It was not supposed to happen this way—any of it. I want a son of York on the throne, my son. God help me, but I still believe we can have another.”  


Anne turned to her side so she could look at her husband. Her hand came up to his chest, stroking his skin. “We had a son…but he died. No matter how many times you tell yourself ‘we’ll just have another,’ does not make it any more possible. I am sorry.”  


Richard looked at Anne, tears in his eyes. It was the first time he’d allowed anyone to see them after Edward died.  


Anne moved closer, resting her head on his chest. She allowed his arm to wrap around her back. She fell asleep listening to Richard’s breathing become almost inaudible.

 

The cold air of winter fell over London. Anne had her ladies dress her as near to the fireplace without scorching the fabric. Richard had the silk order specifically for the Christmas festivities. The mint green detail was woven with gold thread.  


Once she was dress, Anne and her ladies walk down the hall to the children’s wing. There she found Margaret in her own specially made dark blue dress. The girl hurried over to her aunt and greeted her with a bow before wrapping her arms around the Queen’s waist.  


“Is the King going to announce it tonight?” Margaret asked.  


“He should be doing so now, in front of Parliament. They shall join us for dinner afterwards,” Anne informed her niece. “I suppose there is no one to escort me to dinner,” Anne sighed playfully.  


Margaret took her aunt’s hand in hers and guided her down the long hall. “We shall escort each other.”  


The Great Hall had been decorated to match the spirit of Christmas. Lords and Ladies from all over England filled the room with chatter and mostly good humor. As Anne and Margaret were announced, the room stood at attention, bowing as the two passed and joined the King at the head of the long table.  


To his right stood his newly appointed heir, Edward, Earl of Warwick. The young boy smiled at the sight of his aunt and sister as they took their seats.  


After dinner, the Hall was prepared for dancing and celebration. Richard and Anne took to their thrones as they looked upon their guests take to the floor.  


Edward took Margaret’s hand and walked her into place.  


Anne couldn’t help but smile, watching the child dance at the front of the dance line. She peered over to Richard, who was partaking in his third glass of wine, to see if he was enjoying the sight. If he was, it was hidden within his glassy eyes. His face was mute of any expression.  


Anne took his hand in hers. “The children dance well, don’t you think?”  


Richard nodded, but didn’t speak. He continued to stare at guests, watching their movements as if inspecting each of their thoughts. He finally spoke up, “You know, Parliament had another suggestion…before I named Edward my heir…”  


Anne took a sip of her wine and cleared her throat. “Did they?”  


“Some thought it better I put you aside, find a wife who could bear me my own children.”  


The Queen’s expression hardened and her eyes searched the room, finding the faces of those she thought to have suggested such a thing. Yet her head slowly nodded. “I suppose that would be another option, one in which many would not blame you.”  


The music stopped and the couples on the floor bowed and departed. The King put down his goblet and raised his hand for a new dance. He stood, extending his hand to Anne.  


The King and Queen walked to the front of the dance line as other Lords and Ladies joined them. As they dance, Anne notice Richard staring at her as though he were memorizing everything about her; it was something she noticed the last month. Every task or glance seemed slow. Even the dance he had chosen for them was a slow one.  
He smiled at her, and Anne could tell it was one he wanted everyone to notice.


	4. Chapter 4

The early spring of 1485 had Anne sick in bed for most of March; a cold that, simply, would not go away. The months to follow were not much better; Anne experience spurts of fever, which depleted her of all energy. Her absence from court created many whispers about the Queen’s health and whether or not Richard had anything to do with it.  


Anne mostly laughed when her Ladies brought this gossip to her bedside, though it disturbed her how many subjects believed Richard would harm her in anyway.  


It was in early June, when the Queen took absolute delight in entering the dining hall on the arm of her husband. The feast had been prepared in celebration for Anne’s twenty-ninth birthday; a date many subjects were convinced she’d never see.  


“Your Grace,” Lord Stanley bowed at the foot of the thrones, amidst those dancing. “I’m so pleased to see you’re well. You had many of us deeply concerned for your well-being.”  


“Thank you…Lord Stanley,” Anne moaned out.  


Stanley bowed to the King, whispered something Anne couldn’t hear, and then took his leave.  


Richard straightened his stature before commenting, “That was noble of Lord Stanley.”  


Anne’s eye rolled in her head. She and Richard had never agreed on the nobility of Thomas Stanley. Their debates had grown heated at times. “Noble enough…for a dog.”  


“Anne,” Richard hissed, “I know you do not trust him, but these days I need every man I obtain if I hope to stomp out the pestilence from Wales.”  


Anne decided to keep silent for the rest of evening. She didn’t wish to further a conversation that would only turn venomous in front of the entire court. She didn’t trust Stanley, but she didn’t wish to think of the war with Tudor, either. The inevitable war she kept telling herself would never happen, even though she knew the truth.

“Oh, thank you, my dearest,” Anne exclaimed as she gathered Teddy in her arms. The boy had placed a pearl ring on one of her fingers and kissed her hand.  


“You really like it?”  


“I do. The prince has wonderful taste.”  


“Well, Margaret helped me pick it from the treasury.”  


“So, really, you own it long before this,” Margaret admitted.  


Anne laughed, kissed Teddy on his cheek, and clasped her hand onto Margaret’s arm.  


The door to the Queen’s chamber opened, and in walked Richard, smiling at the scene before him. The children noticed their king, and were quick to stop their silliness and bow their heads.  


“Come see the beautiful ring the children picked for my birthday,” Anne beckoned as she extended her right hand in Richard’s direction.  


He ambled over and took her hand, inspecting it. “Seems familiar…” he teased.  


“Are you angry, Uncle?” Margaret asked.  


“Not at all; I think you’ve found it a better home,” he replied as he smiled at Anne. “But now, it is time for bed…for everyone.”  


The children kissed their aunt and left the room. The King, however, did not hesitate to undress his Queen, wishing to express his well wishes on her birthday in more intimate way. 

The horrible winds of August brought news of Henry Tudor once more. He had set sail. It had finally come; a date Anne had refused to acknowledge until she had no choice.  


On the night before he was to leave to meet Tudor’s forces, Richard spent the night with Anne. But Anne didn’t sleep. Instead, she memorized the lines of his faces, the birthmarks on his neck and arms, the sensation of her flesh against his. She hated the thoughts running through her mind, but she couldn’t help feeling her eyes were saying their farewells.

Anne watched Richard as his men tightened the final belt straps over his shoulder armor. He stared into a mirror on the wall, noticing Anne in the doorway.  


“Anne, I told you I didn’t want you to send me off.”  


Anne walked further into the room, her arms folded. “I do not care what you want.”  


Richard motioned for the man to leave. Once he was gone, Richard continued. “I will be fine. Tudor is novice at best. I have more men, despite…everything. So you have nothing to fear.”  


“Richard…tell me what to do in case—”  


“Anne, I said I will win; and you will never have to hear his name again.”  


“Just make me feel at ease, my love. Tell me where I should go, what I should do if…”  


Richard brought Anne into him. “You have my word; I’ll return to you.” He sunk deep into her lips, stroking her long auburn hair, slowly, not wanting to let go, until he did. “I must go, now.” He knelt down, asking for her blessing.  


Anne’s eyes had never closed tighter, prayed harder.  


Her King stood up, taking her hands in his, and kissing them deeply. “Goodbye, my Queen.”  


“Do not say, goodbye, Richard, please,” Anne whispered as tears flooded her eyes.  


He wiped them from her cheek, smiled, and then walked out into the courtyard.

Anne watched from the window as Richard and his men mounted their horses. As they rode off, Anne touched the glass with her left hand and closed her eyes, concentrating on the air leaving her lungs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is sad. This is going to continue to be sad. It's an experiment. I apologize for major feelings that will occur from here on out.

The haze before waking was the part of sleeping Anne had always enjoyed the most; slowly creeping out of dark mixtures of images and sounds only to be released into the light of morning. Feeling warmth, whether she was in Richard’s arms or alone in her furs, and the security that could never be experienced any other way.  


When Anne’s eyes opened, it was not their choice, but instead a response to being shaken into consciousness.  


“My Lady, please, you must rise…there’s no time.”  


It was still night as Anne opened her eyes only to see shadows moving about the room. The voice that had awakened her belonged to their steward, who’s hand extended towards her and face illuminated only by the lantern his other hand. Anne’s ladies fluttered about the room, collecting a simple dress for her to wear.  


“Wait…What…I do not understand…” Anne mumbled as she was helped out of bed and escorted to her dressing room.  


No words were spoken as Anne stared at the sullen, frightened faces of her ladies. A long black cape was tied around her shoulders, and she was rushed out of her room. The steward took her hand, an action that stunned Anne, but she had no time to consider her feelings as he whisked her down the hall.  


“The children are being dressed, and will meet us in the courtyard. From there, you’ll be taken by carriage—”  


Anne stopped walking and held the man still. “Why are we doing this? Did Tudor get away? Are we meeting the King?” Anne asked. Her eyes were wide and her grip was tight enough to cut off his circulation.  


The steward’s face deflated. “I am sorry, Lady Anne…”  


“I am your Grace,” she stated. When he remained silent, Anne whole body began to shake, and she found it difficult to control her actions. Her voice rose, “I am your Grace!”  


The sharpness echoed down the hollow halls, stopping her attendants and the children following close behind.  


The steward meant to continue when the sounds of a carriage being brought around disrupted his actions. He, once again, guided Anne out into the courtyard. The attendants helped Margaret and Teddy enter the carriage, who had been draped in long black capes to match their aunt’s, their faces covered by the hoods. The steward guided Anne to follow them.  


Anne stopped him. “Please…tell me where my husband is.”  


“The King is dead, my Lady. I am sorry.”  


Anne stood up straight. Her expression went blank.  


“We must get you and the children away. A few of the King’s men were able to get away and contact some of his supporters. They have secured a haven for you and the children; not even I know of its location. But you must leave, now.”  


The words seemed to spill onto Anne, drowning her in reality. The coldness of them numbed her sense, and she didn’t even notice the steward helping her into the carriage. When she came out of it, Margaret and Teddy were staring across from her. Their little faces serious and apologetic for something to which neither had any control.  


Anne remained silent.

The widow and her charges were made to switch carriages twice while traveling up the coast until they reached an isolated home off of the main road. The three were taken from the carriage and walked through a small forest towards the home.  


Anne took her niece and nephew’s hands and moved into the woods. It was long before they reached the door of a small home.  


The attendants walked up and greeted the owners; a farmer and his wife. At the site of the three cloaked figures, the man and wife bowed.  


“It is a great honor to house you, my Lady. We are the Woods; my wife, Mary, and I am John; your humble servants.”  


Anne nodded and nudged Margaret and Teddy in front of her, guiding them into the small dwelling. She had never been in such a small place. She and the children examined the corners of the small rooms where Mary Wood led them. She took them to the back where one final room had been prepared while Anne’s attendants and John Wood spoke, alone.  


“This is usually mine and my husband’s room, but we want you to have it.” Mary watched as Anne helped the children with their capes, and then slowly lowered her hood. “There is milk, bread, and some small fruit for you on the table…I am sorry we do not have more to offer—”  


“It is fine, really. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”  


“No, my Lady, it is our privilege. I will let you settle, then.” Mary closed the door behind.  


“Are they going to kill us?” Teddy asked as Anne poured him milk.  


This question caught her off guard; she hadn’t given any thought to what would happen to them. Her mind couldn’t stop picturing the last image of Richard she remembered. “No, not if we stay hidden.”  


“But I am heir,” he said. “They will come to kill me.”  


Margaret did her best to comfort her younger brother before Anne took them both in her arms. “No will harm you, either of you while I am here,” she said, and kissed them both.

Anne stared up at the dark ceiling above the bed. She hadn’t slept more than moments at time since she and the children lay down on the large bed. Anne sat up carefully, not wanting to wake either Teddy or Margaret, and left the room.  


Outside it was almost dawn. Anne could barely make out a line of light beyond the trees that encircled the dwelling. Her feet kept going, leading her into the middle of them, she didn’t know where. Unrest haunted her as if someone was walking with her, but she ignored the feeling and continued. She felt like a spout about to burst. As the sensation became stronger, Anne found herself running past trees until she ran into a large trunk. The might of the hit crumpled her into a ball of angry sobs. A stream she had been keeping inside of her finally flowed.  


Her screams echoed in the quite dimness. Her words made no sense. Her fists pounded into the ground before hitting her chest. Her fingers ran through her hair, not caring about anything, wanting to die.  


Footsteps ran up to her, belonging to John Wood. “My Lady, please come back.” He took hold of her upper body, lifted Anne to her feet, and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.  


As he walked her back to the dwelling, Anne spoke, “He lied to me.”  


“I am sorry.”  


“He promised me,” she cried, and allowed John Wood to lead her back into the house, the sun rising just behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

August ended any real hopes Anne Neville had for sanity. It had been a dry month she never wanted to see again—and wouldn’t, and though this wasn’t known at the time, it was felt to be fact already inscribed in her very bones. Anne could feel it.  


She’d worn black every day since she and the children had arrived at the Wood’s farmhouse, a large area filled with livestock and fields overlooking a seemingly unending forest, though Anne was certain if she had the energy, she could find its endpoint. The Woods had clothed, fed, and housed the widow and the children under her care. But nothing was for free, that was something that took Anne twenty-nine years to truly learn.  


Men frequented the house—Richard’s few remaining supporters from the North, even some still living in London—who reported any and all action from the new Tudor King and his followers. Anne did her best to keep herself and the children away from these conversations that mostly centered on how the body of her late husband was being treated:  


“I saw him only briefly…a blur from standpoint…slung naked over the backside of a horse, paraded into London like a slaughtered pig.”  


The idea boiled Anne’s blood, and she couldn’t help but throw the nearest object at the wall, smashing it to pieces, smearing the red liquid, and halting any further description of his remains in her presence.  


“This is how a King of England is treated?” she cried. “What savages have taken his crown?”  


Her trembling figure was brought down to a sitting position by John Wood, who wrapped a shawl over her shoulders and poured her a new glass of wine.  


“Savages, indeed,” one of the men commented. “And that is precisely why we cannot abide to keep this usurper in power. Only York is the true royal house.”  


“I know what you want to do, and I am refusing any thought on the matter,” Anne moaned.  


“Young Edward is York’s only hope; with the disappearance of his cousins, he is the immediate and rightful heir of York. Even you cannot deny him his right to the throne. You had Richard make him so.”  


“I did, not thinking it would be so soon. But now I don’t want these children anywhere near London. The throne is decorated only in blood. Let the Tudors and Rivers have it, and allow my children and me to disappear into peace.” Anne rose and left the room to disapproving faces.

Anne Neville had become infatuated with watching the sun set. The burnt hue of the sky was the only thing to warm the crevices of her mind. Her thoughts swarmed around years past, happier moments that seemed cruel to remember. At times, Anne felt as though someone was standing behind her, only to turn around and find no one was there.  


She tucked her hands into the black fabric, melting her body into its structure. Anne believed she’d never take it off. The feeling approached her again, and she had all the mind to ignore it. It was silly to believe anyone was watching over her.  


Anne jumped at the sensation of arms wrapping around her neck. Her heartbeat stuttered and then calmed as she turned to see Teddy holding onto her. Her sad eyes couldn’t fake any other expression, and he seemed to know this.  


As the boy came around and sat on his aunt’s lap, his hand rose up and pinched her cheeks. The motion caused Anne to smile, unable to stop it. The tender motion she had always done to Teddy, as well as her son and Margaret anytime they had been pouting. Anne kissed the boy’s cheek.  


“Don’t be sad, Auntie, I will protect you.”  


Anne smiled at the sentiment. “I miss him; I miss your mother; I just…I miss my family.”  


The boy stood up, kissed Anne’s forehead, and then took her hands and helped her up. “We’ll miss them together.”

Anne did her best to walk in the daylight. She wanted the children to be children for the first time in their lives. She walked with Margaret around the grounds, her arm over the girl’s shoulder, and invited Margaret’s arm around her own waist. The two laughed as Teddy chased chickens about the horses.  


“Do you think we could stay here forever?” Margaret asked.  


“Probably not,” Anne replied. “Though the thought is tempting.”  


Margaret halted her walk. “Those men want to put my brother on the throne. He’s younger than my cousin would have been.”  


“They want a cause, that’s all. Any male of York would do. I don’t see how this could take place, but they are committed to the idea.”  


“Will they take him away?” Margaret looked up into her aunt’s face.  


Anne shook her head. “I will not let anyone take either of you from me. We’ll find a way to stay together, away from all this. But for now, let them plot; men love to scheme.” Anne winked at Margaret as they walked back towards the house.

The music played by commoners wasn’t anything Anne had heard in any castle she’d visited. In the darkness of night, the group danced jovially about under the stars. The celebration was in honor of the plans to raise the remaining Yorkist support in arms to thwart the crowning of the Tudor King.  


Anne thought these efforts were a waste; if Richard with all his armies and skill couldn’t win then the cause wasn’t meant to be. She only wanted to remain out of sight, but this group seemed in-love with their own ideas.  


As the group danced a frenzied jig Anne had never seen before, she held Teddy in her arms, clapping with him as Margaret danced with one of the men. He slowly showed the girl the steps, and then quickened the pace, causing Margaret to laugh.  


A new dance began, and the man sat Margaret beside her aunt, and then extended his arm to Anne.  


“Oh, no; I couldn’t.”  


“Oh, please dance, Auntie!” Teddy begged.  


“I’ll teach you the steps,” the man assured before helping her to the ground.  


The steps were easy enough, but the jumping about made Anne feel awkward. As the men swung their partners about Anne couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.  


“Enjoying yourself?”  


“I was just thinking—my father’s rolling in his grave.”  


The man laughed. “You know, I’ve never danced with a queen before.”  


“And you still haven’t,” Anne corrected.  


The group continued to dance as Margaret and Teddy clapped along, laughing at the sight of their aunt dancing in a way they had never witnessed before.

The music stopped to a round of applause. As the man walked Anne back to her seat, the feeling of someone watching her returned. She looked out into the darkness, but there was no one there.


	7. Chapter 7

In mid-September, a type of music entered the small dwelling. It consisted mainly of the chatter of men and their footsteps. Anne would take the children outside to get away from the talk; she couldn’t stand the commotion. It all seemed too ambitious, and ambition is what had made a mess of hers and Richard’s lives.

Anne finished tucking Teddy into bed and moved over to Margaret on the other side. She pulled the sheet up to girl’s chin, noticing a look of concern in her eyes.  


“What is it?”  


“I do not feel well.”  


Anne touched the girl’s forehead and was relieved to find it wasn’t any warmer than usual.  


“Not like that…I feel worried.”  


“I’ve asked them not to speak around you,” Anne muttered in frustration, taking a glance towards the door. “You mustn’t allow it to bother you.”  


“I’ve heard them, yes. They want to move us.”  


Anne stopped.  


“Tomorrow night. I heard them discussing it this morning. They think someone told, and now they have to move us.”  


Anne pulled up the final fur and touched Margaret’s cheek. “Do not worry, Margaret. If we have to move, we will do so together.”  


Margaret nodded.  


“Now go to sleep.” Anne smiled as her niece turned over and fell asleep.

Anne hadn’t been able to sleep most nights, but hearing this news, especially from Margaret, made the idea of sleep impossible. Finding John Wood alone, for once, at his table, Anne sat down. Her eyes red from the dim light of candles about the room, the space felt haunted.  


“You should be resting, my Lady,” John whispered while taking a last gulp of wine. The pitcher beside was half empty.  


“I cannot rest. Not until you explain why my twelve year-old niece told me we were being moved before you did.”  


Wood sighed and poured more wine. “I apologize. Some of the Lords from the north believe we have a spy in our company, one of their squires, perhaps, looking to make a good impression with the new court. But no one really knows. The fear is enough reason to move you. Tomorrow night.”  


Anne fiddled with the pearl ring the children had given to her on her birthday. “I’m so tired of men—telling me where to go, how to act, what to think, do, or feel,” Anne hissed. “I have appreciated your shelter, but it seems, now, this plotting has made this shelter a target.”  


“I am sorry, but you and those children were not put into danger…you have always been in danger. And tomorrow, we will hide you again.”  


Anne stood up from the table in the same black dress she’d been in and out of for weeks.  


“My wife has made you other dresses, ones of color. You should pack them to take with you. Autumn has so many beautiful colors, and my Lady to dress with them in mind.”  


“Black is the only color I recognize.”

A faint drum of rumblings came from the front rooms. Anne opened her eyes, careful not to disrupt Margaret or Teddy who slept on either side of her. At first, the sound seemed normal, old floorboards creaking from the draft. Then more came. Voices. Footsteps turned into running. The door to the room flung open to reveal the shadow of Mary Wood.  


“My Lady, children, you must wake, you must hurry! They are here! They have found us!”  


Anne pulled the children up, waking them from once pleasant dreams. The women dressed them as fast as their shaking hands could manage. Finally, covering their bodies in the same black hooded capes in which they had arrived in, the three went out the back led by Mary and one of the Wood’s workmen.  


“Follow Thomas into the woods. The men are out front. I am hoping my husband distract them long enough.”  


“Mary, tell me, who is out there?”  


“Men from the new King’s camp. Stanley’s men. They didn’t identify themselves at first but…”  


The sound of struggle and swords being drawn came from the front.  


“Go, quickly!” Mary begged.  


“But you…come with us, Mary.”  


“I can’t. Please, go!” Mary said, and pushed Anne out the back.  


Men yelling from the house echo behind them as Anne, the children, and Thomas disappeared into the darkness of the woods. The lantern in Thomas’ hands was the only guiding light to wherever or whoever would rescue them. The branches of the trees scratched their faces as leaves crunched below their feet. It became difficult for Anne to keep up with Thomas with Margaret and Teddy. The sounds of horses and men surrounded the woods and entered within an earshot of the party.  


“They are coming. Quickly!” Thomas yelled before running into a soldier on horseback. The man released a sword from his sheath and plunged into the boy’s chest.  


Anne let out a scream. She turned and ran, pulling the children with her, not knowing where she was going. “Hurry, please, we must get out!”  


Their run was halted as three men on horseback cut in front of them, then two more from behind.  


“Stop in the name of King Henry!”  


The sudden end to their running caused the hood on Anne’s cape to come off, revealing her head. She searched for an exit, but there was none.

The carriage surrounded by ten horsemen travelled down a main road towards London. It orders were to stop for nothing and no one. Anne Neville pulled back the curtain for a glimpse at the sun as it rose just above the horizon.  


Teddy held onto her left arm, as his sister took her aunt’s hand as it came down from the curtain. “What will happen to us?” Teddy asked.  


Anne remained silent, glancing once again out the window. The color of the leaves burst against the shine of the sun in the distance. It was, indeed, autumn.


	8. Chapter 8

The walls of the Tower hummed a familiar tune as Anne clutched the bodies of Teddy and Margaret; her grip most likely cutting any blood flow in their arms. The men led them up the stairs to one of the furnished apartments. While the lone bed was large, the rest of the room lay bare, with the exception of small table in between two windows.  


Before the three had been inside for a minute, the men moved aside for Lord Stanley along with his son, Lord Strange. A curtly smile sat above his chin.  


“Well, welcome home, Lady Anne. I trust you’ve had a safe journey.”  


Anne’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Stanley. “I have nothing to say to traitors.”  


“On the contrary, I’m right where I should be. I’ve had to maneuver my way, but here I am…step-father to the King of England.” His eyes darted between Anne and the two children cradled in between her arms. “And Richard took it upon himself to trust me, and then threatened my son under pain of death if I not join him in battle. I cannot support a King who acts with such villainy.”  


Anne straightened. “How dare you speak my husband’s name with such vile contempt. It was you. It’s always been you. I have never trusted you.”  


“Then you were smarter than he.” Stanley took a few steps closer. “I must now ask that you and Margaret settle in to your new dwelling, and I shall take young Edward to his own room.”  


As Stanley continued to move towards them, Anne pushed her niece and nephew behind her own body. She extended her hand to Stanley, holding a short, but sharp blade. It shook with intent and desperation.  


“You stay away from us. I swear to you, I will cut off any limbs that come within my reach.”  


The men behind Stanley jolted forward in his defense, but he put up his arms and smiled. “My Lady, look at yourself. What stature is this for a woman of your birth? On your knees, begging before me? Threatening me with nothing more than piece of metal? Come now, it’s simply a matter of propriety. You can’t expect your young nephew to share a bed with his aunt and sister. A boy of his age needs his own space.”  


“Neither he nor his sister are leaving my sight,” Anne said. “I am aware that though there may be a new king sitting on England throne, there are those who wish it be a York king. Edward stays with me. If you mind this, then you best walk straight into my blade.”  


Lord Stanley nodded in appreciation for Anne’s intuition. “Very well. I suppose keeping watch over one door instead of two will save me men.” He turned to his men and waved them out of the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.  
Anne threw the blade in the direction of the door. It rattled as it hit the floor. She brought the children around to her front and cradled them as they began to cry.

The days grew shorter in the Tower of London. In the darkness of night, Anne mostly stayed awake, her arms laying gently over the sleeping figures of Teddy and Margaret. Her eyes darted about the room at the smallest creak of wood or howl from the wind. Dark circles corroded the hue of her face and aged her much more than her twenty-nine years. Occasionally, she’d fall asleep for an hour or two only to jump awake in fear the room would be empty. Margaret was quick to rush to Anne and calm her down.  


“We’re here,” Margaret assured her, bringing her aunt’s head down to her small lap and combing her fingers through her auburn hair.  


Anne nuzzled her head against the furs in Margaret’s lap. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I…”  


“You have. We’re together, as you promised. That’s all we need. Now rest. I will watch over us,” Margaret said as Anne fell back to sleep.

It had become custom for whoever brought dinner in for the three prisoners to take bites and sips from each plate a cup; Anne and the children refused to eat otherwise. On a night in late November, Lord Strange brought it in. His presence frightened Anne, and she quickly put herself in front of the children.  


“Lady Anne, I only mean to bring you your dinner and to speak with you…alone.”  


Anne looked over at the children on the bed. “Speak of what?”  


“Here, have your meal,” he said and had the plates placed on the bed on one on the table for Anne.  


“Wait,” Anne said. “You first.”  


Lord Strange smiled and took a bite from each plate, as well as a sip from her wine goblet.  


When he sat, seemingly unharmed, Anne nodded to the children, signaling them to eat. She sat across from Lord Strange and nibbled at her meal. Her eyes looked at the man staring at her and waited for him to speak.  


“I can’t imagine you ever thought of a life such as this,” he began.  


Anne swallowed. “On the contrary, after my first husband was killed, I prepared myself to join my mother-in-law in the Tower. However, I was pardoned.”  


“Indeed. One would say you’ve been quite lucky in your life.”  


Anne paused from her meal and glared at the man. “Lucky? I was married at fourteen to a man I was raised to hate. Widowed and fatherless shortly after. Made to beg for forgiveness for something I never wanted to do, and my fortune threatened. And while I lived a wonderful life with Richard, there were difficult times…he would go away for so long. And when it felt like we could finally live together again, the King died, and our lives became turmoil.” She pauses. “We did what we thought was best. But every aspect of our lives crumbled once we were crowned. My son…” Anne could get the words out. “…And now my Richard…You know, I’ve heard some troubling accounts of how his body was treated after defeat.” Anne’s eyes went up to Lord Strange’s.  


“Such as?”  


“His armor stripped off his body; paraded into the city, naked on the back of horse as people mocked him. How dare you call yourselves men and hold titles of honor? ”  


“War is past a woman’s understanding. It’s best you not think about it and upset yourself. I didn’t come to speak of your late-husband.”  


“Tell me he was buried properly; please, tell me.”  


Lord Strange paused and played with a ring on his finger. “He is buried.”  


“Will I be allowed to visit his grave? It’s my right to—“  


“Lady Anne, I’m here to discuss Margaret’s placement into the Tudor court.”  


Anne looked over at her niece, who was still eating. “What do you mean?”  


“The Tower is no place for a young girl to grow into a lady. It has been agreed that she will be looked after by a family who supports the King, and then possibly brought to court. She is, after all, cousin to the future Queen of England.”  


“Yes,” Anne breathed out, “I have heard. And what of her brother and widowed aunt? What of their fates?”  


Lord Strange continued to twist the ring on his finger. He lowered his voice. “I am presenting you an opportunity to give your niece a life, a transition into the new court. She would be safe and looked after. Cousin, I urge you to take this offer.”  


Anne took a moment to think. She wanted them to remain together; she had promised. But she knew they would never let Teddy out of this prison, and she would not leave him to rot on his own. She would stay. And what type of life would that be for Margaret? Who would that benefit?  


“I will consider the offer…” Anne began.  


“I will tell my father,” Lord Strange said as he sat back, fixing the black opal ring on his right hand.  


Anne face dropped. She recognized the ring. It was Richard’s, given to him at their coronation, signifying him as king. “Where did you get that?” she asked, pointing at her cousin’s hand.  


The man looked down at his hand, and then began to rise. “I will be back for your final answer soon, Lady Anne—“  


“That’s my husband’s ring, you grave-robber!” She leaned over and grabbed his arm, exposing the ring as she flattened his hand on the table.  


“Stop, let go!” he cried, scaring the children who looked on in confusion from the bed.  


Anne hit his hand with the heal of her fist, and loosened the ring from his finger.  


Lord Strange backed towards the door. “Forget whether it is your choice, I’ll be taking Margaret to her new home by the end of the week.” He left, locking the door behind.

Anne played with Richard’s ring as three Ladies and two of Stanley’s men stood at their door. She took a wrap she’d been wearing and pulled it around Margaret’s shoulders.  


The girl’s eyes were watery, but silent as she watched her aunt’s frazzled movements about the room. She finally bent down to Margaret’s level.  


“I wish I had more to give you for your journey,” she said and did her best to smile. She took off the pearl ring from her finger. “I want you to my ring.”  


“But, we gave that to you,” Margaret said, losing the battle to fight back her tears as one trickled down her cheek.  


“Yes, and I have cherished it. But it should go to you, now. And when you wear it, you’ll think of me, and carry me with you.”  


“We will see each other again, my dear aunt,” Margaret whispered.  


Anne smiled the best she could before bringing Margaret down into her arms, holding her until she thought she’d burst. “You know, your mother would be so proud of you.”  


“No,” Margaret uttered. “I have done nothing.”  


“You have been such a comfort to me when I thought I could never go on. And now, I need you to go on.”  


“But you promised we’d stay together,” Margaret cried. “I need to stay…for my brother… and you.”  


Anne wiped the tears from Margaret’s cheek and whispered into her ear. “We are corpses in a tomb. You have a life to live. Please, Margaret, please let me save someone…let me save you. Someone has to come out of this mess.”  


Margaret wrapped her arms around Anne’s neck and sobbed.  


“It’s time to go, Lady Margaret,” one of the Ladies from the door interrupted.  


Anne rose from the ground and ushered Margaret over to her brother. Margaret took hold of her brother, whose face was wet from crying.  


“Take care, brother.”  


“God bless you, sister.”  


Margaret gathered herself and walked over to the three Ladies who guided out of the room. 

As the door shut, Anne could hear Margaret’s sobs echo down the staircase until they had disappeared from the space. She calmly walked over to the window and watched as her niece entered a carriage with the women. The tears she had done so well to conceal began to journey down her face. Her body convulsed as she lowered to her knees.  


Teddy moved from the bed and over to his aunt, bringing his arms around her neck.  


Anne took hold of him. “I’m so sorry, Teddy. I tried, but…I’m so sorry, Isabel, but I…I don’t know what to do. God, help me, I don’t…”  


Teddy grasped on tighter to his aunt. The two sat and held each other by the window until the last bit of day had drained from the window to become night.


	9. Chapter 9

The scent of snow filled the stone cold room inhabited by the Dowager Queen and the young Earl of Warwick. The small fire in the corner of the room did little to warm the space, making sleeping anywhere but in each other’s arms unthinkable.  


Anne sat by the fire wrapped in a fur taken from the bed, staring into the flames as Teddy stood by the window watching trails of horse-drawn carriages pull into the castle at Westminster. The early darkness made differentiating specific figure impossible.  


“It must be Christmas,” Teddy uttered, not moving from the window.  


“I think you’re right,” Anne said. She looked over to her nephew, immediately saddened by his sight. “Come near the fire.”  


Teddy walked over to his aunt who had opened her arms to him. He took a seat on pillows stacked next to her as she wrapped her furs over his small figure.  


“This is all I have for you this Christmas,” Anne apologized.  


“It is enough.” Teddy’s gaze returned to the window, and his smile dropped.  


“Why do you want to stand by that cold window all day?”  


“I was hoping to catch a glimpse of my sister.”  


“Darling, we do not even know if she is at the palace. She could be with another family or…” Anne brought Teddy into her and kissed his forehead. “That is sweet of you to think of her, and I’m sure she is thinking of us.”  


“I wish I knew that she was safe.”  


“I wish that too.” Anne thought for a moment before gazing over at the table in the corner of the room. “You should write to her.”  


“They would take her my letter?”  


“I don’t see the harm. It’s worth a try. And in it, please extend my prayers and well wishes.” Anne caught her breath.

The letter composed over night was handed off to the guard in the morning. He broke the seal, to Anne’s horror, and read its contents to himself.  


“What secrets do you expect to find from a young boy to his sister?”  


The guard, satisfied, folded the letter and handed off to another guard.  


“It’s been a month since we were checked on or spoken to. Has Lord Stanley forgotten us? Is the King satisfied with our new housing?”  


The guard shut door without saying a word. It was silence to which Anne had become accustomed.

Another horrible year had passed and day lifted into 1486. Though the days were short, Anne and Teddy had very little to occupy their time. A book or two had been left for them. Once those had been read at least three times through, Teddy had resorted to drawing pictures, to which he had a talent, particularly for capturing the stillness in his aunt’s face. Time was easier to waste for him; his mind still young enough to imagine a world unlocked by stone.  


Anne, however, had more difficulty. Her mind plagued her with scenarios in which this has all been a nightmare. But it was not so, and the days dragged on and on until she couldn’t tell the difference. No letter from her niece worried the young Earl, and though she tried to put his mind at ease, her own was afflicted with sinister thoughts.  
Teddy lay asleep in bed, occasionally waking up from a cough that had been strangling him for two weeks. Anne did her best to prop him up with pillows and brush his hair with her fingers until he fell asleep.  


Her body crumpled near the fire, wrapped up in furs, but still cold. Her eyes starred into the flames. The quiet of the room didn’t fool Anne’s senses. Her voice broke into it.  


“I know you’re there,” she spoke, not loud enough to wake Teddy, but more than a whisper. “I’ve felt you watch me ever since you died.” Her head moved to look around the room, but nothing happened. The sensation didn’t leave her. “Why are you here watching this? I wonder how it does not drive you insane.” She laughed. “It’s doing so to me. I’m talking to air.” She took a breath. “Why don’t you go and be with our son? There’s no point in watching me.”  


Her right hand lifted. “I took your ring back. But I had to give up my niece, and my nephew is sick, and they won’t allow us outside these walls. And while I long for fresh air, I know the moment I breathe it in, it will only mean death. But…at least I have your ring. I have that.”  
It wasn’t exact, but the sensation of a hand on her back caused Anne to straighten. “I’ll be along soon enough…” she whispered before going to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning of the beginning of March came with a pounding on the door. It straightened a frighten Anne up from sleep, hovering over Teddy as his own eyes opened in fear. The door opened, revealing one of Stanley’s men with a tray of food and drink and a letter next to them. He placed the tray on the table and walk out; the locks sounding louder each time.  


Anne rose and passed Teddy some bread. Her heart thumped as she unfolded the letter. “Look, dearest, from your sister.”  


Teddy removed his covers and scooted closer to his aunt. “What does she say? Is she well? Where are they keeping her?”  


His aunt’s eyes scanned over the words. “She says she is staying with a family loyal to the new Tudor King, but they treat her well.”  


Teddy smiled. “I’m glad she’s well.”  


Anne’s eyes narrowed as she continued to read to herself. “She’s been to the palace only once—during the Christmas festivities. They have taken down our portraits, our banners…anything associated with your uncle and the York’s, and have had them destroyed.”  


“Even my portrait with you, Ned, and Margaret?” Teddy’s eyes filled with grief.  


“I imagine so.” The letter slunk down into Anne’s lap as she looked out. “They are erasing us.”

***

Only a dim light from the dying fireplace illuminated Anne’s face as she stood against the wall by the door. Her eyes danced back and forth between the fire and Teddy asleep in bed. She was tired, but waiting.  


A creak came, and then another. Anne’s head jerked as the sound of footsteps came from below until they stopped outside their door. The latch on the door’s window clicked and then opened, revealing the face of Lord Stanley.  


“Thank you for coming,” Anne whispered, not wanting to wake Teddy.  


“I would be lying if I said I was expecting your letter.”  


“Yes, well, I have heard some very disturbing things from my niece.”  


“Margaret’s been given very comfortable surroundings. I don’t see what she would have to complain over.”  


Anne leaned into the door. “It’s more a matter of family possessions disappearing—we are being erased.”  


Stanley let out a low laugh. “Is that what this is about?” He walked about before returning to the door. His eyes darkened. “My dear, when they are through, there might be people who question whether the York’s ever existed. You know, it always astounds me how easy it is to make someone disappear; the very images of them melt away, and before you know it, the people who were around them begin to question whether they simply made them up.”  


The bars from the tiny window fell over Anne’s face. Her eyes glistened from the light in the hall.  


“You, for example, aren’t even here. Did you know that? You aren’t in this tower. You died almost a year ago. Ill with something…do you remember?”  


Anne was still. “There will be people who remember…my birthday.”  


“You forget, many who attended are now dead. And the memories of those who remain won’t last for very long. It’s all a matter of perception, you see.”  


“You will keep us here forever?”  


Stanley was silent for a moment. “I wish I could keep you here. At least know that a part of me does wish for that. But you see, what’s kept can be discovered. You understand, don’t you, Anne?”  


She was silent.  


“You are nothing but a shadow on the wall that lingers, then disappears with the light. Something no one will ponder much over; something to be forgotten. Memories of it will remain only a legend.  


“Then know this, my Lord; I will linger over you until the day you die. Every creak, every chill down your back, and nightmare you have…I will be its cause.”  


Stanley smiled and backed away from the door. His trend down the stairs was slow and purposeful. 

***

The remainder of the week was quiet. Anne did her best not to let on her worry to Teddy, but the boy sensed his aunt’s uneasiness. She had not been sleeping well; popping up in the middle of the night until Teddy reassured her back to sleep. Though spring was close, the brisk air remained in their room, and they huddled at night for warmth.  


Teddy counted the lines under Anne’s eyes highlight by the flickering fire. His head rose from its burrow against her arm. “What if I tell them I do not wish to be King? I do not wish for anything but to be let go?”  


Anne smiled haphazardly. “My dear boy, I do not think that matters. It’s your blood. You are York, and for someone…somewhere…that’s all that matters.”  


Teddy let his head fall and nuzzle into Anne’s neck. “I wish we could run away.”  


Anne wiped a tear threatening to escape her eye away. She kissed his forehead. “Ah, but where would we go?”  


“Where no one knows us…or our names.”

***

It was sudden. The burst of broken locks shot through the room before Anne had any time to react. Hands took hold of her, pulling her out of bed. The movements of figures were blurred in darkness. Her shouts match Teddy’s has men grabbed the boy and followed behind.  


Anne hadn’t breathed fresh air in months. The delight was overshadowed by the fear in chest as the masked men tossed her into the back of a carriage. Her body collided with Teddy, who had been thrown in on the other side.  


“Where are taking us?” she yelled. But no one responded. Anne pulled Teddy into her. “Do not let go of me, do you understand?”  


The boy nodded.  


Anne could feel his body tremble as the carriage began to move. 

***

Curtains blackened the ride, making it impossible to see their location, but a thin line of light was bleeding through. They had been riding for what seemed like hours. The further they went, the bleaker Anne felt.  


Please, God, save us, she prayed.  


The carriage came to a stop. Anne choked back a breath, tightening the grip she had on her nephew as they both listened to the sounds of men walking back toward them. 

The doors to the carriage swung open on each side; a pair of arms took hold of Anne, pulling her out.  


Anne struggled to keep her grip on Teddy. “Keep close to me! Don’t let go!”  


“I can’t!” Teddy screamed. “Auntie!”  


With a final pull, the men on Teddy pulled him out, making it much easier for the men on Anne to do the same. Once out, they Anne’s arms behind her as she struggled at the sounds of Teddy calling out to her from the other side.  


“Auntie! Auntie!"  


“Teddy, I’m here! Take your hands off of me!”  


His voice floated further away until it went silent.  


“Teddy?” Anne called as the men moved her to the front of the carriage.  


Anne didn’t recognize where they were. There was nothing but an open field with a few trees scattered about the area. The rim of the sun peaked out over the horizon, and she caught herself studying it. Then the wind went silent and Anne could feel anything, not even the scream erupting from her lungs as she crumpled on the ground. The body of her nephew lay silent on the ground a few feet ahead. Blood covered his slit neck. His eyes stared up into the heavens.  


It was fast. For that, she was thankful. The hands of a masked man pulled her up on her knees, his blade swiftly ran over her neck, and then let her fall. It was the struggling for air Anne couldn’t take as blood ran out of her like stream. With little strength that remained, she crawled towards Teddy’s body, reaching out, until she could go no further. Her body stilled, and slowed; her eyes red with tears and lungs out of breath.

***

Three men dug a hole below one of the trees in area as another man with a cross hung around his neck closed the eyes of the deceased, marking their foreheads in holy water, and murmuring prayers of guilt he would never be able to shake.  


The hole was filled with Anne’s body holding her nephew in her arms. A white sheet spread over them, and then covered with dirt.  


The priest stood above, knowing he would never be able to shake their images from his mind. Even on this beautiful morning.  


“This is what duty is then?” he asked one of the masked men.  


“I don’t think we are allowed to speak to one another, Father.”  


“Of course; we’re not supposed to even acknowledge we’re here. But we are. And they are. And no one will ever know,” he mused, blessing the grave being filled before him, then walking away. He paused at the sudden onset of vague figures along the horizon. He held his hand above his eye line, but they had disappear, as though never there at all.


End file.
